


Ghost Story

by accol



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Blow Jobs, Halloween, M/M, Size Kink, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 18:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is that a ghost or a wet dream?  Either way, homes, that shit is kinda fucked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Story

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the generation-kill [Prompt Fitness Test](http://generation-kill.livejournal.com/790189.html?thread=10643629#t10643629). Based on fictionalized portrayals in the HBO miniseries Generation Kill. No harm or infringement intended.

“Why can't you meditate yourself into thinking you're fucking a chick so hot that you actually orgasm?”   
  
Poke was on one of his verbal jaunts, but this one needled its way so deep into Ray’s sleep-deprived brain that he was still thinking about it when the sun went down. Ray was squinting at the last line of blood red sunlight on the horizon, thinking about whether it was fucked up to try a hands-free, all-mental combat jack while he was driving. Probably. Definitely. Yeah. So, no, then.  
  
Sometime after 03:00, they’d dug in outside the remnants of an abandoned village. It was creepy as motherfuck. Ray tried to ignore the creepy-crawly sensation its proximity brought on by filling his head with the challenge of thinking himself into the arms of Jenna Jamison.   
  
Ray managed to catch a few minutes with his head on the steering wheel. He drifted off to thoughts of extra-large tits, but it wasn’t getting his dick anywhere. Maybe it was all this goddamn Ripped Fuel making his nuts shrivel. He probably should question his life choices. Who chooses to go to fucking Iraq, no pussy for thousands of miles? Kids from trailer parks, that’s who. The only prospect Ray Person had for girls at home were bible thumpers or pole dancers...  
  
Ray snuffled, dick limp, eyes shutting to the sound of Walt’s purring snore.  
  
****  
  
A white robed fucker was drifting into their camp smack in the middle of Ray’s watch. He seriously considered popping the fucker -- because Ray was a Marine, homes, and that’s what a gazillion dollars worth of training is for: to immediately see combatants casually walking into a USMC-held stronghold and to blow them the fuck up forthwith.   
  
Except this combatant was blond. And that white shit he was wearing was billowing open in the front. The dude’s junk was just hanging right out there. Ray’s eyes felt like they were gonna bug out of his head because  _dang_. He shifted his rifle against his shoulder and his dick in his MOPP suit.   
  
“Homes,” Ray called out in a hoarse whisper. Something told him Brad would be fucking pissed to get woken up by Ray yelling at a flasher. This dude probably got off on this. “Yo! Homes, what the fuck are you--”  
  
The blond, mostly naked insurgent floated toward Ray like he wasn’t even walking. His cock was getting bigger, Ray was goddamn sure of it. It was, like, halfway to the dude’s knees. Shit, son. Congrats on that beast.   
  
Ray shifted again, feeling his heartbeat in his dick. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Then the guy was on him. Not just on his position, but on him. He was pushing Ray onto his back in the dust, straddling his chest, massive shlong thumping against Ray’s front.   
  
Ray’s cock was at half-mast and rising like a motherfucking white flag as this dude used both hands -- ‘cause that’s what it took -- to start jerking himself off right in Ray’s face. Ray had never, ever, once in his life fantasized about another dude, but this was... ok, this was doing the trick. He decided to roll with this elephantine fucker. (He made a half-assed mental note to watch less Japanese cartoon porn.)  
  
Ray’s hand went to his crotch, squeezing himself through his trousers. He realized he had no clue what face owned this gigantic piece aimed at his mouth. Blond hair he could see, but everything else was obscured by the dripping head of this dick in his face.

A horrible thought occurred to him.   
  
Oh, fuck. How long since he’d reupped his deep sea quals? Because this...  
  
If this guy nutted as much as it looked like he could, Ray was gonna have to drink or drown. He pulled in a long breath and rubbed the heel of his hand down his dick. Mystery dude stroked and moaned and ground his naked ass down on Ray’s shirt. His balls were thudding against Ray’s sternum.  
  
The crown of the cock shoved against Ray’s lower lip, slipping past and down again. The new, salty sour taste of precome streaked over Ray’s tongue when he couldn’t help sticking it out. That must’ve been the sign that he’d been waiting for, because then Ray’s mouth was stretched to the point of near-discomfort around that cock. His own cock was pushing against the seam of his trousers, more annoying than anything. He really fucking wanted to get his fist on himself but his hands were glued to his rifle.   
  
Purrs of pleasure came out of the dude straddling him. Ray tried to move his tongue. He figured he might as well be good at this even if he wasn’t homo or whatever. He tore a hand off his weapon and grabbed a handful of the man’s ass through his white robe and pushed him forward. There was no gag reflex. Nothing. Just dick, dick, and more dick. Filling him up. Readying him to take a metric fuckton of jizz.   
  
Grey light started cracking up over the horizon just as Ray felt the ass under his hands clench and warmth cascade down his throat.   
  
Then he just... evaporated.  
  
****  
  
Ray woke up to Walt shaking his shoulder.   
  
“Dude, what the fuck?” Walt asked. “Bad dream or something?”  
  
Ray’s forehead ached from where it’d been glued to the steering wheel. Wetness was running down the inside of his MOPP. In the pale morning light, he prayed that Walt had no fucking clue.  
  
“That asshole Poke. Told me a fucking ghost story,” Ray said, short of breath. His throat was sore. His dick was still convulsing out little spurts of jizz.  
  
Walt snorted. “That all? Sack up. You know Devil Dogs’ hung like we could take out Babylon with only our cocks.”   
  
“Yeah,” Ray choked out. “Yeah.”


End file.
